


Hair Trigger

by elfin (crazylittleelf)



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M, Gunplay, Kink Meme, Risk Aware Consensual Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-07
Updated: 2011-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:10:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazylittleelf/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln likes guns, and Olivia, and Olivia and guns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair Trigger

It was his father's love of sports and national pride that led to Lincoln meeting Olivia for the first time. Not that he actually met her, but he saw her, poised and solemn among the other shooters at the event that his dad had dragged him to and suddenly Lincoln wasn't able to muster the 16-year-old miasma of apathy that he'd been sulking in since they got to Atlanta. He was able to muster something else and spent the rest of the competition shifting in his seat to attempt to hide that fact.

She was a darling of the media when she won gold, beautiful and talented, interviewed on the talk shows, face on posters, posed with her gun, grinning. It was not any coincidence at all that Lincoln hung his poster of her at the foot of his bed where he could see it easily.

A story that his asshole brother made sure to tell the first time he met Olivia when he'd stopped by the office for a quick visit while he was in town. Dammit.

Olivia laughed it off, seemingly forgetting about it, but afterwards Lincoln kept catching her looking at him from under her bangs, dyed red to distance herself from her younger self's specter. They'd already started their ill-advised affair at that point, pushing each other into dark corners of the locker room and meeting up at sleazy hotels. She met his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him, and that night when he was doing his level best to fuck her through the wall in the parking garage out of sight of the damn security cameras, she smirked and asked him if he wanted her to wear the medals next time.

And, well, no, that wasn't really what he wanted.

*****

They'd graduated to nicer hotels, sometimes even his apartment, because apparently that's what happened when your fuck buddy from work found out about your ridiculous fetish that was all her fault anyway.

She pinned him against the door as soon as it closed, gun drawn and pressing into the skin just below his ear. He couldn't stop the little sound that escaped his lips, something between a shriek of fear and a moan of pleasure. It made Olivia grin and grind herself against his thigh. She dropped her free hand to his crotch and squeezed the hard length of his cock.

"You know, this reaction of yours is going to be pretty embarrassing if you ever actually get held at gunpoint."

He bucked his hips a little and she pushed the gun harder against him. He throbbed in her hand and let his head thump back against the door. "Jesus, you're telling me. Maybe it'd freak the gunman out and he'd let me go."

She had his fly open and was squeezing the head of his cock through his boxers. She shifted the gun up to his cheek and could smell the oil, the tang of metal. "Maybe he'd like it and he'd want to keep you."

"That's where his clever plan fails, 'cause you'd rescue me, right?" He clenched his eyes shut and concentrated on not coming in his damn pants.

She tilted her head. "I'd consider it."

She stepped away, gun trained on him and he felt sort of dizzy, like there wasn't enough blood in his brain, and hell, there probably wasn't. He watched her hand, the way her fingers curled around the grip, one finger extended along the barrel, the play of tendons and muscles in her forearm. She gestured towards the bed. "Time for you to get naked."

He sat on the end of the bed and pulled his boots off. "You're not joining me in naked-time?" He tried not to sound too disappointed.

"Not yet." She waited until his clothing was in a pile on the floor and said, "On your back, spread your arms and legs."

He complied, because that's what you did when you were naked and a woman with a gun told you to get on the damn bed. She gave his thigh a friendly swat before she crawled on him, settling her weight across his waist, trapping his cock against his belly. Her hand stroked a hot path down his chest, followed by the cold metal of the gun. He shivered and wiggled against the her.

She leaned forward and shoved the gun under his chin. "Hold still."

He relaxed under her, stopped squirming, and she pressed her lips where the gun had been, licked his skin. She nibbled her way up to his mouth, attacked his lips while he moaned into her mouth. The gun dug into his neck, hard enough to make him wince and gasp.

Olivia sat up and shook her hair behind one shoulder, bracing herself against his chest. The metal had warmed when she traced the outline of his lips with the gun, light and feathery, and his tongue darted out to touch the muzzle. She rolled her hips against him. "Like that?"

He nodded and licked again, circling his tongue around the opening. She nudged the gun forward, between his lips, and he closed his mouth around the barrel, metal slick and bitter on his tongue.

She moved the gun carefully, and he was grateful for that; he didn't really want to have to explain any more chipped teeth to his damn dentist. His eyes fluttered shut when she moved enough to circle her free hand around his cock, jerking him off in slow, hard strokes that matched the movement of the gun fucking his mouth. He was so, so close when she said, "Open your eyes, Lincoln."

She was watching him, mouth slack, eyes wide and feral, and sometimes he forgot that he wasn't the only one who got off on this. He tilted his head, took the gun deeper in his mouth and she whined, fingers clenching around him and he came in the hot grip of her hand.


End file.
